


Caught Up in Our Stories

by gogglor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - My Immortal, Alternate Universe - Noir, Avengers Tower, Genre Savvy, Happy Ending, Harold Barton's A+ Parenting, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Multiple Alternate Universes, Multiple Genres, Rated T for swearing, Tony Stark Hates Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogglor/pseuds/gogglor
Summary: Someone's cast a spell on Avengers Tower that has changed each floor into a different kind of story, and trapped the Avengers in the story on each of their floors. Steve Rogers needs to rescue them one by one so they can break the enchantment together.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic really was the result of a veritable megazord of people coming together to make it possible.
> 
> Thank you to Bella_Dahlia and Rambles for the cheer read, and ASchmidts and ChocolateCapCookie for the beta read. Thank you to my sister for letting me call at random hours to rant about scansion and CSS. And thank you to FestiveFerret, oluka and pan_kait for their contributions which shall be revealed when they arise.
> 
> I usually upload a chapter a day for my fics, but this one's going to take a little longer than that. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“Hello, Captain Rogers. Please, have a seat.”

Steve blinked as his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. A moment ago, he’d been starting his morning run through Central Park. Now he was in what appeared to be some sort of study. Between the ornate oriental rug on the floor, the walls lined with books that looked older than he was, and the light fixtures just barely new enough to be hooked up to electricity, it was like he’d been transported into an old movie set marked “The Professor’s Study.”

Steve turned toward the voice that had spoken to him and immediately felt his blood pressure rise.

“Goddamn it, Strange, we’ve talked about this! You used to be a doctor, you know how to use a telephone. Can you stop with the magical kidnapping, please?”

“I apologize, Captain, but I’m afraid in this case it truly was necessary. I couldn’t risk you going back to the tower, and the magic that has trapped the other Avengers already might have extended to you as well if I had waited another moment.”

Steve felt his anger and his stomach drop. Someone had attacked the tower. Someone had attacked his _friends_ , the closest thing Steve had to a family, and they had succeeded because Steve hadn’t been there to stop them.

“How did this happen? I thought you and Thor put wards on the tower for this sort of thing,” said Steve, glad to hear his voice sounded even and in control in spite of what he was feeling.

“We can only protect against what we know. The spell that has trapped your friends is a very new, very creative application of magic that neither Thor nor I could anticipate. What’s happened is the equivalent of a medieval castle coming up against a cannon for the first time.”

“Are they hurt?”

“By all indications they’re safe, for now. Please, have a seat,” said Strange as he gestured to the leather armchair at Steve’s elbow.

Steve let out a slow exhale, sat down in the armchair and said, “Tell me everything I need to know.”

Strange nodded, and reached out into the air. A book flew off the shelf and he caught it.

“This book is an artifact: an item that has been imbued with a spell. Something similar was snuck into the tower. Our wards usually stop all artifacts before they can get through the front door but again: castle, meet cannon. The artifact I’m holding contains an imprisonment spell, and I believe something like it has trapped everyone in the Avengers section of the tower. I’ve already placed a ward to prevent anyone new from entering the affected floors, but the artifact is preventing me from getting anyone out.”

Strange held the book out to Steve. Steve took it, opened to a random page, and started to read.

_Doranon paced in front of the large dome window. He’d tried everything he could think of to escape his paper prison, but it was no use; he couldn’t do anything without his enchanted staff._

_“When I get out of here, I am going to turn Strange into a field mouse and feed him to a python,” he growled._

“Books like these are useful for imprisoning people with little to no magical ability,” said Strange. “They’re cheaper, smaller, and more humane than a prison cell, and we can periodically check to see if the prisoner has learned their lesson, and free them when they have.”

“And something like this has trapped the Avengers?” said Steve as he closed the book.

“Like it, but not the same. The sorcerer, whoever they might be, had the brilliant idea to trap your friends not in a specific _medium_ , like a book, but within stories themselves. Unfortunately, they had the skill and aptitude to make it plural.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Did you see that Doranon is aware he’s imprisoned? Your friends are not. They’re each folded into a type of story, in a genre that’s known enough to them for their minds to fill in the gaps and details whenever they subconsciously notice that something is wrong. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to convince them that they’re trapped when you meet them, although of course you’re welcome to try.

“As for what kinds of stories, any kind is possible, and not just within the medium of books. Ms. Romanov may be the hero in an 80’s action movie. Mr. Stark may be a tragic hero in a Shakespearean play. It’s impossible to know until you enter their world and try to find them. They may or may not recognize you. They may not even know who they are.”

“How do we get them out?”

“The only method I can recommend with any certainty of success is to find the artifact and destroy it. However, I’m afraid I can’t give you any guidance as to what it might be or where you might find it. My suggestion would be to free the Avengers from their individual stories first and then work together with them to determine what and where the artifact could be.”

“That makes sense,” said Steve. “Alright, how do we free them individually?”

“This is a very unusual application of magic and so nothing can be certain, but I do have an idea of something that should work.”

“Let me guess: I’m going to be the one actually risking my life, and you’re going to be on the outside helping, but not endangering yourself.”

“I don’t set things up this way intentionally, Captain, but magic does tend to operate like that.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“What do I need to do?”

“The spell has a weakness. Each floor is its own locus of magical energy, which likely means each floor is its own story or genre. But there’s a space that is and isn’t a part of every floor of the tower—”

“The elevator,” finished Steve.

“I could put an enchantment on the elevator that ensures whoever enters it is free of the spell’s mind imprisonment. You would go in first, giving yourself immunity to whatever you encounter, and then it will be a matter of going to each floor and convincing your friends within the context of the story to follow you into the elevator. I should warn you though: once you and the elevator enter the field of the spell, there’s no way out except to destroy the artifact.”

“That sounds like a workable plan to me. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes. As I said, the minds of your friends are filling in the gaps of the world around them. That means you may see other people you or they are familiar with. The only real people present are the five remaining Avengers; anyone else is a figment of your friends’ imaginations, but they can still harm you. I’ll do my best to maintain the spell on the elevator _and_ guard the world outside the tower in case this sorcerer has plans for the earth while the Avengers are out of commission, but I recommend apprising Colonel Rhodes and Sam Wilson of the situation as well, so they can cover for you while you conduct your rescue. And finally, a spell like this may become more powerful with time, so if we’re going to do this, we need to get started right away.”

Steve stood up, straightened his back, and said, “Alright. Let’s get to work.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, I'm going to be relying heavily on a work skin as a part of telling this story, so if you turn off work skins by default I recommend making an exception for this piece. It's not as important for this chapter, but for later chapters it'll be absolutely critical.
> 
> For screen reader users, you should know that unlike last chapter, this one's in Times New Roman. The effect I was going for was that it looks like words would look like in a book if you were reading it.

Los Vengadores: the city that avenges. Not that she’s doing much avenging anymore. Maybe she did once, but these days, the people of Los Vengadores just keep right on hurting as the city looks on with the dead eyes of her broken street lights, letting that pain reflect and reflect on the cold, unfeeling glass of the windows of her high rises. If they were hurting bad enough, sometimes they’d come to a run-down office hidden away in one of those high rises. They’d heard from friends of friends that Tony Stark, PI, could get you that vengeance, that satisfaction of justice served and a world put to rights. But that had been a long time ago. These days the only thing I was raining vengeance on was my liver. The clink of ice in a glass and the oblivion at the bottom of a bottle were the only things between me and a memory of a dark cave in Afghanistan and some long cold vengeance of my own.

“Don’t let any trouble in, Pepper, I’m off the clock,” I said as I brushed past my receptionist’s battered pinewood desk on the way into my office. Pepper was a firecracker; long red hair and longer legs, but don’t be fooled by the pretty smile and the lilac perfume. She was all fire and ice, the kind of broad that’d burn you up inside just as you were freezing to death, a bombshell in stilettos and cherry-red lipstick. We’d had a thing once, but it was never meant to be. She was too good for an old lech like me, and easily worth double what I paid her. At the moment, she had her feet up on the desk and was reading one of her harlequin romances, with a picture of a blonde woman in a green dress on the cover. I didn’t think she’d even heard me until she replied without looking up.

“You might be off the clock, Tony, but trouble’s got a way of finding you anyway. In fact, he already has.”

“He?”

“Says his name is Captain Rogers, and he’s waiting for you inside.”

A captain, huh? I always did love a man in uniform. I hung up my hat and trenchcoat and spat on my comb to slick down my hair. I probably still looked like hell, what with running on two days of no sleep and forty-four years of broken dreams and seeing too much, but a guy had to make an effort. Once I checked to make sure my black tie was knotted right and my suspenders weren’t crooked, I opened the door just as the first flash of lightning outside lit up the shadow of a figure looking out the window.

Trouble, Pepper said. Trouble wasn’t the half of it. Captain Rogers was a tall drink of water in an unforgiving desert of a world, a regular all-American heartthrob with a jawline made to cut glass and a face made to break hearts. Not a hair was out of place on his sandy blonde head, and when those baby-blue eyes took me in, he looked almost amused. It was like he’d known me all his life and it was all some big practical joke, the two of us meeting here. Joke or no joke, Captain Rogers must’ve been in real trouble to come all the way out here. And if the strange state of his clothes was anything to go by (Knickers on a man his age? And that sleeveless shirt was easily two sizes too small for him, not that I was complaining), he was a real fish out of water in Los Vengadores. The city didn’t take kindly to fish out of water.

“The retro look is good on you,” said Rogers, a blush just starting to heat the apples of his cheeks.

“I dunno what retro is, dollface, but I’m glad you like it,” I said as I walked over to the liquor cabinet. “Go have a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment. Want a drink?”

Captain Rogers didn’t move. In the corner of my eye, I could see he was frowning, looking my way like I was a piece that didn’t fit, like he was too young to realize the whole damn world was just pieces that didn’t fit. The city hadn’t crushed his spirit yet, but in a town like this it was only a matter of time.

“Tony, do you know who I am?” he asked.

“Glad we’re at first names already, darling, but I’m sorry to say I don’t know yours,” I said as I crossed the small, untidy room, filled with odds and ends from cases I’d solved and broads and fellas I’d burned hot for, for a time: a backgammon tile over here, a baseball signed by Sam “The Falcon” Wilson over there, an old dummy all the way back from my first case in the corner. Eventually I got behind my old, scratched-up oak desk, drink in hand, and sat down on the worn leather chair.

“I—,” the captain stammered, “When Pepper didn’t recognize me I assumed it was because she wasn’t the real Pepper, but you—”

“Whoa, slow down and have a seat, darling. I can tell you’ve had a rough time of it, what with the clothes on your back getting stolen on your way here. I can lend you a coat on your way out, if you like, but maybe first we can get to why a pretty fella like you came all this way to see a washed-up old PI like me.”

He hesitated, then came over and sat himself down on one of the cheap wooden seats across from my desk, the ones that I’d promised myself I would replace as soon as I got my PI business off the ground, a lifetime ago. The rain was starting to pound against the windows in earnest, but here in this office lit by the glow of the single light bulb gently swaying with the draft over our heads, it was like nothing in the whole damn city mattered except this poor kid and the trouble he’d brought to my door.

“Tony, listen to me. This isn’t you. You’re not a PI, you’re… you’re a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist superhero. You’ve been put under a spell, and you need to fight it.”

I suppose that’s what I get for saying I’ve heard it all before.

“Figures,” I said as I threw back some of the scotch, feeling it burn all the way down.

“You believe me?”

“No, doll, but I know what it looks like when the cats at the station send someone to play a joke on me. Who sent you? Was it Hill?”

“I’m not from the station. I live a few floors above you, and you’re one of my closest friends.”

“Well now I know you’re clownin’ around, ‘cause if what you said was true, there’s no way I’d just be friends with a fella that looks like you.”

The blush spread from the apples of his cheeks like a rumor in a church on Easter Sunday. It was sweet but it stung a little, having that reminder that at the end of the day, he was just a lost kid in a lonely world. The captain might have come here as a plant from the guys at the station, but he still had a look in his eyes that spelled ‘danger’. Something was weighing him down, something big. I never could stay away from a pretty fella in distress.

“Look, dollface, I know you might’ve come here to get an extra nickel in your pocket, but at the end of the day, nobody comes here ‘til they’re at the end of their rope. And judging by the look on your face and the way you won’t stop fiddlin’ with the arm of that chair, you’re not just at the end of your rope. You’re at the end of the pier and you’re about to step off. You’re not a looney and you’re not a floozy, so how about you tell me what’s really goin’ on that brought you here today. You can start by tellin’ me your full name.”

The captain furrowed his brow just as the lightning flashed again. And for a moment, I could see all the lines that had already etched themselves into his face, like he was a 100-year-old man in a 30-year-old body. I must’ve been wrong about the city not getting to him yet. He had a face like everyone got eventually in Los Vengadores: careworn and tired.

“My name is Captain Steven Rogers. Everyone calls me Steve or Cap. And you’re right. I’m here because I’m… I’m looking for someone.”

“Ain’t that the way it goes? Who is she?” I said.

“ _He_ is the man I told you about. Rich, brilliant, kind, never sits still. He’s got a razor-sharp wit that could cut anyone to ribbons but it’s covering a heart of gold.”

“Quite a fella. Where’d you see him last?”

“Here in this building, if you’ll believe it. That’s… that’s why I took the job to come here. I figure the more floors I see the better idea I can get of where he’s gone.”

“And when did you last see him?”

“Last week. Then he went out of town on a business trip. He was supposed to come back yesterday.”

“Where from?”

“San Diego. But he was seen walking into the tower last night.”

“A missing lover in the tower, huh? Could be interesting.”

“No, we, um, we weren’t lovers.”

“But you wanted to be, didn’t ya, sweetheart?”

Steve said nothing with his words and everything with the shift of his eyes and the tightness in his jaw.

“To young love,” I toasted, then I downed what was left of my scotch. I took a pencil stub from a cup that used to be a gadget, back when I’d taken a stab at being an inventor, and wrote down a few notes.

“What’s your honey’s name?” I asked.

“T— Howard. Howard Krats.”

“And a description?”

“He looks a lot like you, if you’ll believe it. Strong build, goatee, brown eyes.”

“Glad to know he’s a handsome fella at least.” I put down the pencil, stood up, and gestured toward the door. “C’mon, let’s take a stroll.”

“Really? You’ll help me?”

“If he’s stashed somewhere in the tower and he turns up from us just takin’ a walk, that hardly counts as help now does it, doll?”

Steve let out a low chuckle as he followed me out the door. He said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just; T— Howard, he makes fun of _me_ all the time, for using words like ‘doll’ and ‘fella.’”

“Your Howie’s got a strange sense of humor. Now c’mon. Where do you wanna start our Tour de Tower?” I asked as we left my office.

“Maybe we could take the elevator up to the top floor and work our way down,” said Steve.

Over my shoulder I heard Pepper snort. We both turned to look at her. Eyes still on her book, she said, “Captain, that elevator’s as likely to get repaired as I am to wear tennis shoes. Didn’t you notice on your way up?”

“No. I took the elevator here, so it must be working again,” said Steve.

That finally got Pepper to look up at me, a question in her eyes. It was the same one I felt in my gut. There was no way the elevator was fixed, which meant Steve was lying. But why was he lying about something so trivial?

“Humor me, darling, I’m an old man and I could use the exercise. Let’s take the stairs up a floor and start from there,” I said.

“Don’t look so old to me,” said Steve, a dangerous kind of smile playing across the corner of his mouth. I had a feeling that when it came to Steve, the only smiles he had were the dangerous kind. I was a fly and he was a pot of honey, and I could already feel myself starting to drown.

But that didn’t mean I had to go down easy.

Once Steve was out the door and out of earshot, I turned to Pepper and said, “Pep—”

“If you’re not back in 30 minutes I’ll call the station,” said Pepper, already back to reading her romance novel. “I’d ask if you’re planning on carrying, but you and me both know the answer to that one. So instead I’ll say don’t do anything stupid, Tony.”

Did I say she was worth double what I paid her? She was worth ten times that.

I put on my shoulder holster and checked the handgun inside was loaded before I walked out the door to catch up with the captain. One way or another, I was going to figure out what had driven Steve Rogers to my door. At the same time, I vowed not to look too closely at what was driving me to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my damnedest to this work accessible for screen reader users, but AO3 really is fighting me every step of the way. Aria attributes aren't supported in AO3's HTML, who knew?
> 
> If you're reading this with a screen reader, you should know I've configured the chapter divider to look like green and black stars, asterisks and periods, and the same applies to all future chapter dividers. The look I was going for was something like magical energy. Also, the text changes back from Times New Roman into AO3's typical font after the chapter divider.

A short flight of stairs later, Steve and I were on Natasha’s old floor. Maybe it was my imagination but I could swear there were still traces of her perfume in the air, the sort of spicy, musky fragrance that was the only warning you’d get that you were caught in the black widow’s web. She was a white Russian rose hiding a deadly viper beneath, but she knew just how to play the meek little mouse to lure in the fat cats from Barton’s casino or Odinson’s gentlemen’s club. Married four times while she was in Los Vengadores, only to have her husbands either disappear mysteriously or suffer unfortunate accidents. I tried to nail her for it more than once, but the second I started to get close, she was in the wind, nothing but an echo of a laugh and a memory of wicked green eyes. In more ways than one, she’d always be the one that got away.

“This floor’s been abandoned since Mrs. Romanov skipped town last year. Not a bad place to stash a missing beau,” I told Steve as I glanced around, taking in the cracked paintings and bits of furniture with beads and old, dead flower petals scattered on top of them. When she’d left, she’d left in a hurry.

“Mrs. Romanov?” said Steve, as if he knew the name (another interesting clue I’d file away for later), “So… ok, if we take the stairs we stay in — but — nevermind.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head on the way over here, dollface?” I asked. It would fit, with his clothes being stolen and all.

“No, I’m alright. Are you sure we can’t take the elevator up?”

Again with the damn elevator. Whatever Steve wasn’t telling me, it always came back to the elevator.

“Do you have something against stairs, doll?” I asked, not quite keeping the wariness out of my voice.

“It’s an army thing,” said Steve quickly. “I like to do things efficiently. Quickest way from point A to point B, start at the top and work your way down, you get the idea.”

Steve added an apologetic little smile to seal the deal on the hooey he was trying to sell me. I had half a mind to tell him what I thought of his phoney army efficiency, but I decided to call his bluff instead.

“Look, darling, I’m not pulling your leg here. It just ain’t working. See?” I said as I walked over to the elevator and pressed one of the buttons.

There was a ding. A moment later the doors opened and the elevator carriage was there, working and intact.

I’ll be damned.

“Great, let’s get started,” said Steve brightly, doing his damnedest to sound as innocent as a choirboy. And somehow, that’s what it took for everything to click into place in my mind. I reached for my shoulder holster, pulled out my gun, and pointed it at Steve.

“Whoa! Tony, what’s—”

“You thought you were bein’ real slick, didn’t ya?” I said as I started to inch toward him, “Oh  _ Tony _ my lover’s missing, oh  _ Tony _ can you please help, oh  _ Tony— _ ”

“I don’t know what you’re implying.”

Losing my patience, I quickly closed the distance between us and used my free forearm to slam him against the wall and pin him under the chin, my gun poking into his gut.

“Who sent you really, huh? Was it Killian?” I breathed into his cheek.

“No one sent me,” he choked out.

“Sure, and you just happen to be lookin’ for a fella with my last name spelled backwards and my old man’s first name. Did you really think I’d be dumb enough not to notice you tryin’ to get me to the roof as fast as possible so you could push me off, make it look like I’m just another hard-luck PI whose luck got a little too hard? Or no, I’ll bet the elevator’s rigged to drop as soon as I step inside, isn’t it?”

“We don’t have time for this,” said the captain irritably, that good boy veneer finally starting to crack.

“You’re damn right we don’t, sweetcheeks. I’m gonna need you to—”

A moment later my arms were pinned at my sides. But before I could fight him, Steve’s lips were against mine and he was kissing me, deep and hot and  _ hungry. _ All this time I thought I’d caught a small-time sheep trying to make it in with the wrong people, but I was wrong. Steve was a wolf, and all I could do was stand there and be devoured.

Then I felt the cold press of metal poking into my gut.

“Get into the elevator, Tony,” said Steve in a low, dangerous voice, still breathless from that kiss. He was a real pro, taking my gun when my mind was on cloud nine. A real fella fatale if I ever saw one.

“Or what?” I said, refusing to back down.

“Or I’ll shoot you and make it look like you did it yourself. Killian doesn’t care either way.”

“So it  _ is _ Killian, huh? Figures. He knows my type. He  _ was _ my type once, did he tell you that?”

“Quit talkin’ and get into the elevator.”

“Oh I never quit yakkin’. I’m famous for it. And no, I wouldn’t get in that elevator now for all the money in the world. You’ll have to force me, angel.”

Steve looked me up and down, from the hair on my head to the soles on my feet, not quite hiding the naked desire lingering in his eyes. But now it was warring with something dangerous. It shouldn’t have sent a shiver running down my spine, but the feel of Steve’s eyes on me was intoxicating _. _

“Works for me,” said Steve, and a second later he was bum rushing me backwards into the open elevator doors.

* * *

Tony woke with a groan. He could feel his legs buckling awkwardly to fit his recumbent frame within the confines of a small room.

_ Great. Passed out in a closet. Well, it’s been a while, I guess I was due, _ Tony thought.

“Tony?” said a tentative voice over him.

Tony opened his eyes a fraction and hissed at the harsh lights above him. Judging by the lack of coats, he was actually in an elevator. Been a while for that one too. A second later he made out Steve’s frame, standing over him with—

“Jesus, Rogers! What the fuck!?” said Tony as he backed into the wall. Steve had a  _ gun _ pointed at him. And it might’ve been some antique from the 20’s, but the hammer was down and Steve was ready for a kill shot.

Steve lowered the gun a fraction of an inch, but then he said, “Where did we meet?”

“On the SHIELD helicarrier. Was I just mind-controlled or something?” said Tony.

Steve lowered the weapon and sagged against the side of the elevator with a relieved sigh. Whatever they’d just been through must’ve been  _ rough. _

“Or something,” said Steve dully, as he reached down to help Tony up. Then he added, “You really don’t remember anything?”

“Pretty sure I’d remember a situation that made you point a gun at me, Steve.”

Tony suddenly became aware of his clothes.

“Steve, why am I dressed like my dad?” asked Tony.

Ten minutes, one long story, and a short tour of Tony’s floor later (still a noir detective novel, but this time Tony remembered himself), they were back in the elevator planning their next move.

“First of all, and I cannot stress this enough,  _ fuck magic, _ ” said Tony.

Steve snorted and shook his head. “I won’t tell Thor you said that.”

“You can tell Thor and Strange and anyone else what I said. The laws of physics exist for good goddamn reasons, and one of them is to make sure bullshit like this doesn’t happen. Now, that being said, I guess there’s not much we can do except go onward and upward. Once we’ve got the team together, we can get to work trying to find the artifact powering this shitshow.”

“That’s the plan,” said Steve.

“Before we go to Natasha’s floor, I have one more question: why do you look like you want to die right now?”

Steve did that thing where he tried to make his face blank, but he was such an open book that any idiot could see he was panicking, then he replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Steve, it’s fine. If you had to, I dunno, do something forceful to get me into the elevator, it’s ok. Retro-active consent, I’m granting it.”

Steve gave Tony a look he couldn’t read, blushed a little, and then said, “Alright, let’s just… c’mon, let’s head up to Nat’s floor.”

Tony felt the gears in his head start to churn. Something wasn’t adding up. If Steve had just picked Tony up and tossed into the elevator, Steve would’ve been visibly relieved at what Tony had said. Whatever had happened was clearly still bothering him. Tony shook his head, pressed the button for Natasha’s floor, and decided he’d look into it later. Right now they needed to focus on the goddamned magic in  _ his tower, _ and the sooner they kicked its ass, the sooner Tony could get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Steve. Even if he’d never requite Tony’s feelings, he still cared for the man and didn’t want him upset on account of something he did to help Tony. And even if he didn’t care for him, Tony never could stay away from a pretty fella in distress.

_ “Fella?” The hell did that come from? _ Tony wondered as the doors opened to Natasha’s floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters are intentionally riddled with typos. I know that's a real barrier for dyslexic and screen-reader using readers, so I'll be posting a link up here in the chapter notes for a typo-free version if you need one. You can find typo-free chapter 4 here: https://gogglor.tumblr.com/post/646119831704403968/caught-up-in-our-stories-chapter-4
> 
> The only thing you're missing out on by going to that link is the skin, which is intended to spoof mid-aughts fanfiction.net. Reminder: if you've turned off skins as a default, you really need to turn them on if you're reading this here.
> 
> Also, the next couple of chapters are going to be on the short side, so I'll try to make up for it with more frequent updates if I can.

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[Movies]() > [Marvel Cinematic Universe]()

Wake Me Up Inside []()

By: [Gogglor]()

Mmy name is Natasha Nigtshade Blood’ness Vampira Way Romanov an I am a goth fampire and I hav a hot boyfriend & we r in luuuurrrrvvvvv 

Rated:[Fiction M]() \- English, barely - Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark - Chapters: 1 - Words: 417- Reviews: 0 - Favs: 0 - Follows: 0 - Updated: March 19, 2005 - Published: March 19, 2005 - Status: Incomplete - id: 1029802 

Chapter 1

DISCALMER: I du not own Stev & Tony & Natasha & evry1 else PLS DONT SUE lol

  


_How can you see into my eyes, like open doors_

_Leading you down into my core_

_Where I've become so numb_

  


Hi my name is Natasha Nigtshade Blood’ness Vampira Way Romanov & I have blood redhair with black streaks and purple eyes with gold flecks. I am half campire half werewolf half fae & becuz of that I can see the future & tlak to aminals & I work for Hydra which means I live with a lot of vampires & we save the world from prep vampires who arn’t goth like us. I use knifes tipped in Nightshad (thats how I got my name) & I always wear black. Lik today I am wearing a black leather dress with red lace, black dock Martinis, sparkle skull earrings and riped red fishjets. I had white foundation and black lip stick and lots fo black eyelinner. 2 prep boys came to my floor of the Hydra tower & 1 even laughed at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“I would trade half my fortune for a picture of you right now, Nat,” said the prep who was dressd liek a granpa. I pit up my other midle finger.

“What the — what genre is this?” said the blonde prep who has eyes like limpid tears n was wering exercise cloths.

“Steve, there is literally no way I could explain this to you unless you were reading a very specific kind of terrible fanfiction on the internet circa 2006. Suffice it to say Nat is going to dress weird, talk weirder, and make the weirdest decisions until we can get her into the elevator.”

I roled my eyes all the way up till there was nothing but white & pot up my other middle figer. Then I went to see my hawt boyfriend. The prepz tried to followed me because they are jelous haters so I throwed a knif at them.

“This is yoru only warning, u prepy motherfuckers!” I shooted moodily & I beard my fangs. Blood dropped down my chin & onto my tits & made a pentagram (I am a Santanist).

"What the hell!?” said blond prep who loked at the blood on my tatas.

“Wait! Wait we uh… we want to be goths like you!” said the old one.

“We do? Ow! Ah, yeah. We do,” said the blonde prep sadly.

  


_Without a soul_

_My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold_

_Until you find it there and lead it back home_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the typo-free version of this chapter here: https://gogglor.tumblr.com/post/646228230604488704/caught-up-in-our-stories-chapter-5

Fanfiction.fake 

We lost so many good tongues in the dominance wars... 

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[Movies]() > [Marvel Cinematic Universe]()

Wake Me Up Inside []()

By: [Gogglor]()

Mmy name is Natasha Nigtshade Blood’ness Vampira Way Romanov an I am a goth fampire and I hav a hot boyfriend & we r in luuuurrrrvvvvv 

Rated:[Fiction M]() \- English, barely - Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark - Chapters: 2 - Words: 764- Reviews: 4 - Favs: 0 - Follows: 3 - Updated: March 20, 2005 - Published: March 19, 2005 - Status: Incomplete - id: 1029802 

[]()Chapter 2 ˅[]()

Chapter 2

(AN: Stup flamming, Natasa is not Marie Sue she is goth!. Fangs 2 xXx3nch4n72355xXx 4 te beta ur ta bob PLS R&R)

  


_(Wake me up) Wake me up inside_

_(I can’t wake up) Wake me up inside_

_(Save me) Call my name and save me from the dark_

  


We went to the Hot Topic. Steve (that is the blonde preps name) got a GC tee shirt, black sk8r pants, checked vans and eyeliner & I panted his nails to look lik pentagrams. Tony wore a marilyn Mansion shirt with black fishnet rave sleeves over it, red color contacts, riped black jeans & black leagher boots with alot of fuckles. I bought a corset with balck lace all over it, black fisnets, & convers with Evanesense printed on them.

“I hate every single thing about this,” exclaimed Steve.

“Like we hate everything! Because we’re goths,” said Tony depressingly.

“Why is there a clothes store in Natasha’s living space?” said Steve moodly.

“You can’t think too hard about details like that for a story like this. Besides, now that Nat can see we are appropriately goth and not posers, I’ll bet she wants to hear about the secret My Chemical Romance concert happening in the basement,” said Rony

I scremed “OMFG I luuuuurrvv MCR they are the best and Gerard Way is so HOTTT”

“Yeah, I’d tap that,” sighed Toly hornly. Steve loke confuse but TOny said “Well I would. And it’s a thing for this genre; the protagonist likes bi dudes. Just don’t be weird about it, ok?”

“I’d never be weird about something like that, Tony,” sed Seve all blushing bcause he’s closeteded (AN: AN: don’t u fik gay guyz r lik so hot! HOMOSOPES FUCK OFF!!!!!)

Tony srhuged & said, “Natasha, we need to hurry up and take the elevator to the basement or we’re going to miss it,” siad Tony.

“UR NOT GOIN ANYWERE WITH MY GF!” shooted someone.

It was Loki!!!!

  


_(Wake me up) Bid my blood to run_

_(I can't wake up) Before I come undone_

_(Save me) Save me from the nothing I've become_

[]() Chapter 2 ˅ []()


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